First, I stopped by Manchester, Iowa to hang out with my mom, step-dad Brian and our motley crew of in-house animals. Can you imagine? Brian lives in a female-dominated household. There's the cat, Marisol, and dogs Frida, Mona and Sunny. You can see how we imagine our pets as family members, or rather, literal people (hint: they all have "people names.") I love relaxing at home, sleeping on my old twin bed, sifting through pictures I've seen a million times, eating from my mom's garden, seeing my best friend Sarah and reminiscing on past shenanigans (those that will not and cannot be named). Home is a pocket for slow laziness. Yum.
Photos: Picture of me, age 5, happily displaying my writing (also proof that a mushroom cut can be cute with a smile like that); Our sassy, fat cat Marisol; Trying to pose with the dogs, me on the left, Mom on the right; I spy a coupla ripe tomatoes; Sarah and me, circa 2007, on a Valentine's Day date.
Now, I am currently in Minneapolis, visiting my dad and hanging out with our fabulous friend Beth. Minneapolis is this quirky, weird, simple, cultured, thoughtful city with food and trees and parks and lakes and ice cream bursting from every corner. I bought a vintage Panasonic road bike the second day I was here (for $80 -- a steal!) and I've been coasting around with Scott for almost a week, buying blueberries at the farmer's market, book shopping (I've never read Elie Wiesel's Night, can you believe it? But I found a copy at a used book store for $3 and I started reading it yesterday at the beach), and munching on Jucy Lucys from Matt's. Bliss. Absolute bliss. I love this town in all its ease.
Oh, I also gave my dad his pajama pants from Rwanda! He loved them. And may I say, this man looks great in turquoise African pants. Thanks to the tailor in the Somali district in Kigali who did not speak English and thought I was rather strange for ordering such big pants. "They're for my dad!" He did a fantastic job.
Photos: Random sites in Minneapolis; Jacek opening his gift; So cool in those pants.
Tonight we are biking to Loring Park for an outdoor concert and then dusk showing of Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound. Then, in a few weeks, I'm off to Texas to see my baby niece, Charlotte, this little nugget.
This summer life of wanderlusting -- I suppose you could say I'm spoiling myself. For awhile I even stopped writing because I wanted *quote* time to relax *end quote.* But the not writing thing, it unnerves me. It's that unsettling feeling like you've forgotten something important. It's that unsettling feeling like you're hungry. It's that unsettling feeling like you've been asked to wait for a few minutes in the hall but no one has come to get you and it's been probably 45 minutes and your legs start to fidget and that's strange because usually you are a very patient person and now you're biting your nails and where the hell is everyone?
Panic. That's what not writing feels like to me. I can handle Hitchcock. But I cannot handle abandoning the words.
Today I'm working on an article for Vessels International. They want me to write about the Avenir women and they will post it on their website. Well, of course. Now how to begin...
Yanna
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